I remember how Christmas was a time for fancy decorations and craft work during my school days. As exciting as it sounds, I was terrible at it. I found it daunting to make perfect paper stockings or colourful trees and wreaths. It was hard to juggle between those sticky glue, paper, colours, sparkles, sequins and scissors. Not to forget those special zig-zag edged scissors which was entrusted with only a few students who had earned the credential of prolific craftsmen. Lucky me, I was not ‘crafty’ (100% pun intended). I dreaded those DIY sessions where my continuous focus was to attempt to partially create what was taught without looking like a dud! Of course, those classes weren’t termed DIY but it was called ‘SUPW’, an acronym whose full form was not essential to be explained back then, until someone brought it up as a part of a conversation in the future. For example, “Hey, remember those awful SUPW classes?”. Mental note to self: google SUPW.
After a day’s struggle; ‘‘day’’- because if you couldn’t complete them within an hour like other super kids at school, you had to take the raw materials home, outsource it to someone, (usually your mother) and take back the finished product to school the next day. By this point it would have probably been a classic example of the game ‘Chinese Whisper’ because let’s face it, if you couldn’t complete it in school, you aren’t going to do too well giving instructions to your helper at home to get it completed. (Wow, I just realized I had my version of ‘Santa’s helper’ back then! Cool.)
The bizarre part follows the next day at school. What you witness then would probably be your first hand experience of what discrimination looks like; kind of setting your future life of a woman in a corporate world. The craft-work made by each student was judged based on visual appeal. The flawless ones were put up in visible open spaces : areas and spaces that were easily noticed when you enter the classroom, and the not so ‘good-looking’ ones were either put up in places which nobody knew existed or probably settled in some dark corner murmuring, “Where am I?”
I was probably dumb and stupid to not realize this unfair practice and was probably relieved of not having my work of art displayed then. But, for the sake of the people who helped me create it, for those who were mature enough to understand this discrimination then, and the present me who is recalling Christmas celebrations of the past, I would condemn this activity! How rude! Nobody said it was a competition. It was supposed to be a gratifying classroom activity with supposed equal treatment of results. I want to seek answers now. I really want to know why my sloppy cardboard wreath with shabby decorations was not hung where everybody could see them?
An unsolved Christmas mystery, perhaps.
But, I would let this one go because the beautiful Christmas cake, the delicious candies and unbiased classroom celebrations that followed was truly something. It was indeed a sweet and memorable childhood Christmas.
